


I owe you I owe

by ilfirin_estel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Casual Ableism, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, brief references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilfirin_estel/pseuds/ilfirin_estel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Why do you keep saving me, Cas? Is there something you want? I owe you—I owe you everything, man, so if there’s anything I can do for you, anything you want from me, just ask.”</i> The one where Dean tries to figure out what Cas wants from him, and Cas is... evasive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I owe you I owe

**Author's Note:**

> The [prompt](http://pann-cake.livejournal.com/138824.html?thread=1187400#t1187400) was SPN- Dean/Castiel, _your shoes are filling with your own damn blood, you must want something, just tell me, and it's yours_ from Richard Siken's "Wishbone".

When he got out of Hell, it was all Dean could really think about—that constant question of _why? Why me? Why did you save_ me?

The first answer he got out of Castiel was this: _good things do happen._ But Dean knew that was bullshit because, in his experience, good things did not just _happen,_ and if they did, well, there was always some sort of price.

So Dean kept asking. The answer kept changing, all variations of the same theme—a higher purpose, God’s work, your destiny, Michael’s vessel, the end of the world.

Actually, the latter half of those answers weren’t even Castiel’s. Somewhere down the line, Dean stopped asking, and Cas stopped talking about why. Cas saved him and was still saving him these days, pulling him out of countless traps and close-calls.

It’s pretty much a given now that he owes Castiel his life a million times over. And it’s now, when Castiel almost didn’t make it through their most recent hunt because he took a couple hits that were meant for Dean—it’s now when Dean remembers to ask.

Sam is out getting more pain meds and Cas is lying on one of their beds—Dean’s actually—shuddering through some sort of infection from the cursed knife the witch they ganked was using. Dean hates witches on a normal day, but with Cas laid up like this? Dean _loathes_ witches.

Cas glances over at Dean with fever-bright eyes. “Don’t you dare feel guilty.” Castiel’s voice is rougher than usual, wrecked from pain. “If that knife had hit you, you’d be dead. Better me than you or Sam. I’ll heal. I’m going to be fine.”

Dean sits on the corner of the bed by Castiel’s feet. “Thought that was supposed to be my line.”

Cas blinks blearily, then shakes his head and closes his eyes. Dean wonders if he’ll fall asleep—if he _can_ sleep when he’s not fallen. He doesn’t ask, just watches for a minute.

And looking at him, Dean can feel the question pressing against his tongue. Somehow, though, the _why_ gets mixed up with the _I owe you._ “Do you want anything,” is what he asks.

“The pain medication Sam is out for,” Cas replies, soft and dry.

Dean shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

Cas opens his eyes and frowns—and Dean fights against the impulse to call the whole thing off. He’s gotta do this, gotta get it out now or he never will.

He pushes forward. “Why do you keep saving me, Cas? Is there something you want? I owe you—I owe you everything, man, so if there’s anything I can do for you, anything you want from me, just ask.”

There’s a flash of something in Castiel’s eyes, some emotion that Dean can’t put his finger on before it’s gone. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean,” Cas says, but he looks away too quickly.

Dean lets it go for now.

-

The next time they see each other is after a regular salt-and-burn. Cas flies in looking frazzled and annoyed, declaring that he wants a _fucking vacation_ —his words, and Dean tries not to laugh because Cas rarely swears and when he does it’s always a little hilarious. Dean stifles it and cracks open a beer for the guy.

“How about we all take some time off, huh?” Dean says as he hands Sam and Cas bottles. And if Cas sags in relief as he takes that first gulp of alcohol, no one comments.

They sit on the hood of the Impala talking about the hunt, about how if Sam has to hear Metallica one more time this trip he will burn the tape, about how Bobby’s doing—just stupid, normal human stuff, and Castiel just looks so fucking grateful it makes Dean’s chest hurt.

The stars come out and they’re bright and clear out here on the open road.

“I should go,” Castiel says quietly, when they’ve all slipped into peaceful silence. It’s late; Dean can hardly keep his eyes open. There’s just one thing he wants to say before Cas goes back to Heaven.

He reaches over and grabs a fistful of Castiel’s coat. “Wait a sec,” he says. “You remember what I said to you before? About me owing you?”

Cas doesn’t answer, but his eyes are bright, star-light caught in the blue. Dean thinks about kissing him. It’s not the first time he’s thought about it, if he’s honest. It’s also not the first time he’s shoved that thought to the back of his mind. There’s no way Castiel would want anything like that with him—Cas deserves better than Dean. He’s a broken toy soldier, but he tries to do what’s right.

“Cas,” Dean breathes. “I meant it. I _mean_ it. Anything you want, I’ll give it.” And a part of him hopes, hopes that Cas will ask for him, flaws and all. He tries not to think about the naked desire crackling inside his voice when he says, “I’ll give you anything.”

Dean has somehow always been able to sense when Cas is about to fly. Something about the electric charge in displaced air from metaphysical wings that Dean can’t see, but can feel unfolding. He feels it now and he tightens his grip on Castiel’s coat as if he has the power to keep Cas here just one more moment. Just long enough to insist on an answer.

Cas hesitates. He brings his hand up as if he’s going to touch Dean’s face, but thinks better of it and draws back, fingers curling around nothing.

That’s what Dean’s holding on to a second later. Nothing. Cas is gone.

-

Dean gets pissed. He thinks about praying and demanding that Castiel get his feathery ass back down here to earth so they can fucking talk about whatever it is that Cas wants from him, but then Sam reminds him that hey, the angel has a job to do and he doesn’t really need Dean distracting him.

What Dean automatically reads into that is that Cas doesn’t really need Dean. Which is a stupid, insecure thought that rings true in his head. _You need him more than he’s ever needed you._ It’s always been the story of his life when it comes to the people he loves.

“What’s going on with you two anyway?” Sam asks, and Dean shrugs it off, cranking the music up a little louder.

Hell if he knows.

-

There’s blood in Dean’s mouth—the sharp taste of copper and an ache in the back of his throat. It hurts to breathe. His ribs feel like they’re on fire and his head is splitting and he just wants to be unconscious, but that’s a little hard when Castiel is hissing furiously in his ear.

“You stupid fucking _man,_ ” the angel is saying, and Dean would smile at the obscenities if he wasn’t concentrating so hard on breathing. “You fucking son of a bitch, you are not allowed to die, Dean Winchester—”

Dean tries to say something about how death is really nothing new to him at this point, seriously, but all that comes out of his mouth is a groan that’s half liquid. God, he hates it when hunts go wrong. It all happened so damn fast. He thought he’d had this wendigo cornered, no fucking problem, but here he is now, coughing blood onto Castiel’s coat.

Castiel’s words shift seamlessly from English to Enochian. Almost simultaneously, the pain fades from Dean’s body and he slips gratefully into darkness.

-

He wakes up slowly—doesn’t open his eyes, just slowly becomes aware that he’s in a bed and Castiel is (still?) talking, the words soft and slow and melodic. An unfamiliar language, an unfamiliar song. There’s something heartbreaking about it, though. A constant note of longing or sorrow.

“Cas,” Dean slurs sleepily. “S’going on?”

A warm palm against his forehead. Gentle. Cas has gone quiet. Dean struggles to find words to fill up the sudden silence.

“Saved me again,” he finally manages. “And you won’t even tell me what you want.”

Castiel’s hand moves down, cradling Dean’s face before disappearing. Dean opens his eyes. Cas can only hold his gaze for a moment.

“After I healed you, I ran into Sam. The wendigo didn’t touch him.”

“I know that,” Dean says because he does. They’d split up on the hunt; Sam wasn’t anywhere near Dean when the wendigo found him. Plus, even if Sam was hurt, Dean knows that Cas would fix him. Cas always fixes them, regardless of his insistence that he’s not a guardian angel perching on their shoulders. “Cas, come on.” He tries to sound encouraging, but he’s still groggy so all that he can hear in his own voice is sleepiness. “You want something, that’s clear. You keep avoiding the subject. Why won’t you just ask?”

There’s a pause that drags on, but Cas doesn’t fly off so Dean figures he can wait it out. “Dean,” Cas finally says, and there’s a plea there in that single syllable of his name. “I don’t want you to feel as if you owe me anything. The thought of you feeling obligated to me is… _abhorrent._ ”

What? “Cas, no. That’s not what I meant.” That is so not the point of this conversation Dean’s insisting on them having. “I’m fucking grateful for everything you’ve done. But you’re—you’re my _friend,_ Cas.” Dean can’t believe he has to explain this. “So if there’s something you want from me, I want you to know that you’re free to ask for it. I’ll _give_ it, not out of an obligation, but because I _want_ to. Okay?”

Jesus, Dean really wishes Cas would look him in the eyes.

Cas runs a hand through his hair then down over his face to his mouth. It’s such a nervous, utterly human gesture. “There’s,” he starts, then stops, then starts again. “There’s only one thing I want. But I don’t want it if you don’t.” And _now_ he finally looks over, guilt all over his face like he’s some goddamn little kid that’s waiting to get yelled at. “You have to tell me—you have to tell me if it’s okay.”

“Okay,” Dean says. On one hand, he’s unsure of where Cas is going with this, but on the other, yeah okay, honesty for honesty. He recognizes the importance of equal ground right now.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, swallowing and hooking his bottom lip between his teeth. Dean has never seen him this visibly nervous; it’s disconcerting and fascinating all at once. Whatever it is that Cas wants, it’s gotta be really important.

Dean will _not_ fuck this up. Maybe if he keeps telling himself that, it’ll actually come true this time around.

Cas reaches up and frames Dean’s face between his warm hands. Dean’s eyes widen as Cas leans in and—Cas kisses him. Castiel is _kissing Dean._

Dean is so thrown for a loop that he completely freezes up. Cas jerks back and it’s not hard to recognize that Cas thinks his advances are getting rejected, which—

Dean’s hand snaps out and grabs onto Castiel’s coat without him even thinking about it. “Cas,” he says, all his shock and disbelief there.

“Apologies,” is Castiel’s quick reply, so quiet, so obviously meaning _let’s pretend that I didn’t do that, okay?_

“Cas, I didn’t think you…” Dean is really having trouble putting this together in his brain. Either Dean is dreaming or he’s in some parallel universe. “You want _me?_ ”

“Dean, this can’t be a surprise to you,” Cas says, no breath to the words—and Dean is _reeling._ “After everything we’ve been through, all I’ve _done_ for you. You never showed any sign, and you obviously don’t feel the same way, so can we just—”

“—I’m an _idiot,_ ” Dean says, maybe a little too forcefully because Cas flinches in response. “I never thought you wanted me back. I never thought you would ask for me.”

Cas looks at him—and it’s that look of his that sears through skin to soul, but Dean doesn’t shy away from it because now it’s like he can see Cas too. He knows what Cas wants.

“I’m asking for you,” Cas tells him.

Dean’s mouth curves into an irrepressible smile as he tugs Cas back in, kisses him, and says, “Okay, Cas. I’m asking for you too.”  



End file.
